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softened from his face and it became very beautiful. Simply, so that Tuktu could fully understand, he explained that Christmas is the season of loving thought. It is the season when self is forgotten and the desire of each is to make others happy.
    It was a wonderful story he told her, a wonderful story of how all through the long years he had carried Christmas joy to the boys and girls of all the great world. He told her how all the year through the Fairies and Elves and Trolls and Gnomes were busy down in this valley, hidden by the wondrous many-colored mist, making the things which he was to take on his yearly journey to make glad the hearts of little children. He explained how it grieved him when sometimes he could leave nothing, because a little girl or a little boy had not been good. He told herhow the Spirit of Love was abroad throughout all the Great World in the Christmas season, and how those who do for and give to others are the ones in whom the Christmas spirit lives all the year through, and who thus find the greatest happiness.
    Â Â Â  “It is not in receiving, my dear,” said he,
    Â Â Â  “But in giving in love you will find to be
    Â Â Â  That fullness of joy, and that sweet content
    Â Â Â  For the beautiful Christmas season meant.”
    â€œAnd does no one give to you, kind Santa?” Tuktu asked a little breathlessly.
    You should have heard Santa Claus laugh then. Indeed, you should have heard him laugh! You should have seen his eyes twinkle. “Every year I receive the greatest gift in all the Great World,” said he.
    â€œAnd what is that?” whispered Tuktu.
    â€œThe love of little children,” replied Santa Claus. “Not in all the Great World is there any gift to compare with the love of little children. And it is mine—all mine—every Christmas.”

CHAPTER IX
    THE CHOSEN DEER
    T UKTU still sat on the back of Whitefoot. As Santa Claus talked, he came over to Whitefoot and gently stroked his face. Whitefoot stood without motion. It was the more surprising, because Whitefoot had always been rather unruly. He never had been one to willingly acknowledge a master. Only Tuktu had been able to handle him without trouble. Santa looked up straight into the eyes of Tuktu. “Tell me, my dear,” said he, “how you came to venture into this valley. Did you not know that only the deer folk come here?”
    â€œYes, I knew,” replied Tuktu in a low voice. “I knew, Good Santa, and I would not have thought of coming myself. It was Whitefoot who brought me here. He brought me here, and I didn’t know where he was bringing me.”
    Then she told how she had been lost in the fog, and how when she had awakened from her nap in the midst of the great herd, she had discovered where she was. She told how she would have left, even then, but could not. And her lips trembled a little as she talked, for she was fearful that the Good Spirit might think that she had done wrong.
    â€œAnd why do you think that the deer folk come here every year?” inquired Santa Claus.
    â€œThat the blessed eight may be chosen,” said Tuktu.
    â€œAnd what, my dear, do you mean by the blessed eight?” Santa Claus inquired.
    Then Tuktu told him of the tales she had heard around the winter firepots, and how it had been long known that every year eight deer were chosen from the great herd in the Valley of the Good Spirit ; and how the following year these deer always returned to their owners, and were the finest sled-deer in all the North, so that the owner of one of these was considered blessed above his fellows.
    Santa Claus sighed. “They ought to be good sled-deer,” said he. “I spend enough time in training them. For what purpose, mydear, do you think these deer are chosen each year?”
    Tuktu shook her head. “That,” said she, “no one knows. All that is known is that each year the eight deer are chosen,